


Splintered Fragments

by courtroses



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, ghost au, post canon fic, the family is trying their best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-18
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-03 17:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11537406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/courtroses/pseuds/courtroses
Summary: It doesn’t take long for Marvin to break.---------A Ghost AU no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm Courtney, and I'm very new to the fic scene of Falsettos. This is my first fic in this particular fandom, so I hope you enjoy!

“You sure you’re not coming, Marv?”

Marvin shakes his head, hands gripping his thighs as he sits. He avoids Cordelia’s knowing gaze. The couch dips on his left, Cordelia sitting next to him. His eyes stay focused on the torn part of his apartment carpet. It’s less beige than the rest of the floor, a little more grey.

“Marvin, please.” Cordelia’s hand touches his elbow, asking him to look at her, “We’re all going.” She holds his arm a little tighter, pleading, “Jason’s in the car, so is Char, and Trina and Mendel.”

He keeps his eyes on the grey part of the carpet. It's different from the soft threads of the beige carpet. Rougher.

“I brought some food.” She sits up a little straighter, knees bumping into Marvin’s, “Some sandwiches and I made a few thermoses of hot cocoa. Homemade, with milk this time” There’s a smile in her voice, like she’s asking him to mock her about that one time she used water to make hot cocoa and Jason nearly threw up.

Marvin shakes his head again.

“Jesus Christ, Marvin.” Her soft touch leaves his elbow.

Marvin looks up. Cordelia’s eyes are brimming with tears, jaw set. She clears her throat roughly and softens her glare at the man, “You’re not the only one hurting, you know?” She blinks a few times, “We are all,” a few tears slide down her cheeks, “hurting.” Cordelia wipes her tears quickly with the back of her hand and stands up.

“I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what he’s sorry for. For making her cry. For not going to the cemetery with them. For shutting himself in his apartment for two weeks.

Cordelia laughs humorlessly, “You don’t have to be sorry.” She bites her lip, eyes now downcast, “I know how hard this is for you. I’m not going to force you to come with us today.” She looks at him, “But you are not gonna stay like this forever. We want to help.” Her hand touches his shoulder for a moment, “We love you, you know that right?.”

Marvin nods, looking down at the floor again. He hears her soft footsteps across his apartment, the front door opening and closing with a quiet click.

He lets out a shuddering breath.

 

* * *

 

Marvin loosens his tie as he runs up the stairs of his apartment complex to his two bedroom apartment. He shoves his briefcase under his left armpit as he fumbles with his keys, unlocking his front door. Grabbing his briefcase again, he opens the door.

“Fuck.” He exhales.

Sitting on his couch are Charlotte, Cordelia, and Trina. Next to them, on the floor, are Jason and Mendel. Noticing his presence, they start to move. Trina grabs the TV remote and turns down the volume while Cordelia stands up and moves to sit in Charlotte’s lap, clearing a space for Marvin. Mendel and Jason sit closer to the couch, and it looks like a fucking intervention.

They watch him as he moves to put his briefcase down on the kitchen counter. He takes off his tie and drops it on top of the briefcase. The back of his neck prickles with the eyes of the group. He stays there for a few moments.

“Marvin.”

He turns around and Trina pats the spot next to her on the couch. Sighing deeply, he walks over to the couch and sits down. Trina puts her hand on his thigh. He expects a speech, an admonishment, anything.

Nothing.

It’s silent as the family looks at anything but each other. It doesn’t feel cold, though. It feels warm. Trina’s hand on his thigh. Charlotte’s presence to his right. Seeing the crossed legs of Cordelia slotted on top on Charlotte’s. Hearing the rustle as Jason leans into Mendel, who wraps his arm around the kid’s shoulders. It feels warm.

It feels like when he was a child and his mother wrapped a blanket around him after he got mocked by one of the middle schoolers. It feels like the sun shining on his bare chest as he spends a day at the beach during his freshman year of college. It feels like strong, sturdy arms wrapping him up in a hug after a game of racquetball, the straps of their racquets entangling. It feels like a promise.

Trina reaches over and grabs the remote. She turns up the volume on some nameless sitcom no one watches intentionally.

The broken family slowly begins to come together as they all watch the show, sharp edges gluing together.

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t take long for Marvin to break. The idea of their small family possibly mending turns over in his stomach, heavy, as they sit there and watch the sitcom a week after their first faux intervention. He feels sick.

It goes generally the same every day. Marvin comes home and nods at the group sitting in his apartment just like they had the first day. Sometimes they murmur small greetings to each other. Sometimes Jason gets up and hugs Marvin. Sometimes they talk during the show. Sometimes it’s silent.

After an hour of a different sitcom each day, the family disperses, leaving Marvin alone in his apartment, the show still playing in the background. The light of the TV illuminates his sleeping figure as he falls asleep on the couch again.

Today, it’s normal. Whatever that is.

The credits start to roll on the small television. Charlotte and Cordelia are the first to get up. They gather their things and walk out of the apartment, Cordelia placing a tupperware of bagels on the counter before she goes. She probably noticed there aren’t any breakfast foods in Marvin’s fridge.

Marvin gets up before Trina, Mendel, and Jason leave. He hears hushed whispers as he walks into the bathroom. The door makes a creaking noise as he closes it. Marvin looks at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes are large, making it look like he never sleeps, when he actually sleeps most of the time when he’s not at work or watching TV. He hears the front door open and close.

He tears his gaze away from his reflection, trying to make his eyes focus on anything else. Then they focus on the toothbrush in the small cup right next to Marvin’s. It’s purple. It has those dumb ass rubber bristles on the opposite side of the brush. Marvin stares at it.

Then, he grabs it and throws it at the wall. It makes a small thud against the wall and falls to the floor, bouncing on the tiles once before it lays there, motionless. Marvin swallows thickly. He looks at his reflection again, cursing at the redness of his eyes.

The door creaks again as he walks out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to get some water. His traitorous eyes land on the tupperware of bagels on the counter. They seem to look back at him, mocking him. He knows he won’t eat them. He never eats bagels anymore. He can’t get them to be that soft shade of brown after the toaster. They always come out burnt. He never had to toast his own bagels before. Hell, he didn’t even know he liked bagels until he tried the way Whizzer-

Marvin takes a step to the counter and shoves the tupperware off the counter, the lid popping off as it falls and bagels spilling out. It’s not enough. He walks to the cupboard and grabs a pristine, white plate from it. No stains. Completely clean from a vigorous hand wash over a light conversation about nothing. He throws it across the kitchen, reveling in the loud crash and the small, harsh noises as the shards fall to the ground. He grabs the rest of the plates and throws all of them across the room, breathing heavily. Shards bounce back at him and scratch his legs. He clenches his fists and looks for something else to throw in the cupboard.

“Dad?”

Marvin flinches and turns around. Jason. Shit. It’s Saturday.

Marvin and Trina had agreed this would be the first weekend that Jason would stay at Marvin’s.

He opens his mouth to say something, but his throat is dry and he can’t speak.

Jason looks back at Marvin. He looks at the shaking form of his father, button up loose on his body, hands balled up into tight fists. He steps forward.

Marvin moves to stop him, so he doesn’t accidentally step on the glass. Jason is smaller, though. And faster. Jason walks past Marvin and opens the cabinet next to the fridge, pulling out a mug. He looks at Marvin questioningly.

The mug has a ring of tea stains on the inside of it, from being set on the edge of a tub for too long. Marvin nods.

Jason looks at the mug for a few seconds, thinking. And he throws it as hard as he can. It hits the wall and shatters. The shards join the pile of shards Marvin had created.

The next half hour is spent by the two throwing mugs and plates and bowls and cups at the wall. They try to fix their broken shards quickly and violently. It doesn’t work.

 

* * *

 

Marvin’s hands turn white, he’s holding onto the steering wheel so hard.

He’s in the parking lot of the cemetery. The rest of the group are making their way through the gate and towards the gravestone.

They said they’d give him some space. So he can muster up the courage to see the slab of stone and the patch of dirt that holds his heart. So he can leave his car and walk over to the spot where his lover lies, and will lie, forever.

Marvin lets go of the steering wheel abruptly. The corners of his eyes sting. His head hurts. His chest aches. He can’t do this. He can’t do this.

He turns the key again, hearing the engine sputtering as it starts.

They’ll understand. He can’t do this.

The wheels of his car squeal as he drives out of the parking lot as fast as he can.

 

* * *

 

“What the hell, Marvin?”

Marvin looks up from his cup of coffee that had grown lukewarm quickly. Trina stands in front of him, across the counter, arms crossed.

He sighs, “I-”

“No, you don’t get to apologize. You were our ride, and Mendel and I had to squeeze into Charlotte’s tiny car next to Jason back home. What the hell, Marvin?”

“I couldn’t do it.”

Trina unfolds her arms, resting her hands on the cold kitchen counter. She shakes her head, eyes scanning over the room. The shards have since been cleaned up since Saturday. Jason didn’t tell anyone about it. Neither did Marvin.

“You need to work with us, Marvin. We all miss him so much. It’s like,” She gestures with her hand meaninglessly, “We are trying to heal, and we just can’t like this.”

“I’m so sorry I’m preventing you from healing.”

“Marvin.”

“No, I am so sorry Trina.” He straightens up, putting his hands on his hips. “It’s so truly awful I put you through this, I can’t imagine your pain- I mean, fuck!” he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, “You guys must be doing so terribly, visiting his fucking grave every Monday afternoon and eating sandwiches and paying your respects to a man you must’ve cherished so deeply! I feel just terrible thinking about what you are going through, Trina!”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Marvin glares at her, “Then how did you mean it?”

Her voice shakes, “We are just trying to help you, Marvin.”

“How the fuck are you helping me?” He seethes, stepping towards her, “You’re just trying to force me to move on. Well, I can’t move on, Trina!” He shouts, eyes filling with tears.

“Marv-”

“How can I move on, when everything in this fucking apartment reminds me of him?!”

Trina steps to Marvin and tentatively places her hand on his shoulder. He crumbles and drops his head onto the crook of her neck, where he used to rest his head when they were married. She rubs his back as he tries to force back his cries, but it just ends up in choking sobs. He shakes as he cries, tears staining her blouse.

They stand there for an hour, Marvin’s body violently wracked with harsh sobs and Trina trying to comfort him, small streams of tears dripping down her face.

 

* * *

 

“I’m not gonna be here after work tomorrow.” Marvin says during a commercial break. The small group shifts, all of them looking at him.

Trina holds his hand, a question in her eyes.

Marvin sighs, “I’m gonna go see him.”

For a moment, the room is silent, save for the commercials on the television. Then, a rush of noise.

“That’s amazing, Marv!”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“Can I come?”

Marvin laughs quietly, “No, Jason. I’m going alone.” He shrugs, “I have to.”

The small family gathers around him and hugs him. The shards begin to soften around the edges, not as sharp now. The glue starts to dry.

 

* * *

 

Leaves crunch under Marvin’s feet as he walks down the sidewalk. He shoves his right hand in his coat pockets. In his left hand, a bouquet of roses. His breaths come out as puffs of white air. The gate is already open.

He stops in front of the gate. He can do this.

Marvin steps forward, past the gate and walks down the path of dirt, past graves of people he never knew. His chest feels tight. He starts to breathe quicker as he walks. He doesn’t know if he can do this. He doesn’t know if he can walk up to the grave and set the roses on the stone slab and still have the energy to go on afterward. He doesn’t know if he can live after seeing the grave, knowing who is there, under 6 feet of dirt.

God, how the fuck is he gonna do this?

Before he knows it, he’s standing in front of the grave. And it takes the air out of his lungs. His eyes blur with tears as he stares at the inscription, ‘Whizzer Brown’. Marvin takes a shuddering breath and places the roses on the gravestone.

He sits down in front of the grave, not caring if his trousers get dirty. His mouth twists into a frown and he tries not to cry, he’s cried enough this month. God, he’s cried more than he had in years.

Then, he feels something flick the back of his head. Marvin jumps and scrambles to his feet, turning around.

“Really? It took you a goddamn month?”

“Whizzer.” Marvin exhales, eyes growing wide. His heart beats quicker than ever and his hands start to shake.

Whizzer stands in front of him, wearing a white button up and black pants, his entire body slightly translucent so Marvin can just see the blurry shape of a tree behind him. And he looks damn good. His hair looks softer, a lighter brown than his last days, and cheekbones fully pronounced instead of sunken in. He looks like he did when Marvin first met him.

Marvin blinks a few times, not believing his eyes.

“I’ve been waiting this entire time for you to show up, you idiot, and I get everyone but you? Are you kidding me, man?” Whizzer says, gesturing wildly with his hands. “I had to sit through endless prayers and songs, waiting for you. And now you decide to show up?”

A sob escapes Marvin’s lips and Whizzer focuses back on him. His face softens. And he smiles.

Whizzer steps forward and hugs Marvin. It doesn’t feel like a real hug, more like a strong memory of one. But it’s enough for Marvin. He cries and grasps Whizzer’s shoulders. Whizzer hugs him tightly, as if he’s trying to keep this moment in time forever.

“It was worth the wait, I guess.” Whizzer smiles into Marvin’s hair.

Marvin composes himself after a few minutes and steps out of Whizzer’s arms. The two stare at each other, soft smiles on their faces, trying to conceal the giddy excitement brewing in their hearts. Marvin mutters, “Fuck it.” and steps forward, capturing Whizzer’s lips with his, pressing into a deep kiss, lips sliding against each other. It still doesn’t feel real, but it feels warm. It feels like a promise

Marvin doesn’t understand what’s happening at all. He’s so, so confused. But answers can wait for now. Now, he’s with Whizzer, in the flesh, or whatever Whizzer is. And he can feel the shattered shards of his heart finally mend together.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the last part to this small story!

Leaves crunch under Marvin’s feet as he walks down the sidewalk. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets. His breaths come out as puffs of white air. The gate is already open. Marvin enters the cemetery and his lips curl into a giddy smile.

He walks through the twisting and turning paths, making sure to step on the particularly crunchy leaves. Finally, he stops and turns to his right and walks up the hill. As he reaches the plateau, he sees the translucent, white figure of Whizzer, sitting on his gravestone.

Whizzer’s eyes widen and he jumps from the stone, landing on the dirt in front of it. “Where were you this week?” he asks, a smile growing on his face.

Marvin sighs and walks over to Whizzer’s spot, “Sorry, I was caught up with work and Cordelia needed help with the financials of her catering thing and of course I’m the only person she would ask-”

“Marvin. It’s fine, I’m not upset.” Whizzer laughs and sits down, leaning his back against the gravestone. “You have responsibilities and I have mine.” He shrugs, smirking at Marvin.

“Yeah,” Marvin exhales, “How’s that going, anyways?”

Whizzer rolls his eyes and frowns, “I am still confined to this lowly patch of dirt, sadly.” He makes a grabbing motion at the dirt and sighs when his white hand remains empty.

“It’s been months!”

“I know. They still think I’m incapable of leaving my gravestone.” 

“Didn’t that one asshole leave his grave last week?”

“Oh, Ben? Yeah, he did. Total asshole.”

Marvin groans, “It’s difficult having to come up here every day. I mean,” he pauses, holding up his hands, “It’s fantastic we get to have this, but the commute-and Trina is trying to get me to talk to Mendel again about my many visits and it’s just exhausting.”

Whizzer shrugs, “Yeah, I get it, Marv.” Then, he grins, “C’mon, loosen up, let’s play.” And points over to a thick and sharp stick next to the gravestone. Marvin smiles back and grabs the stick.

“Okay, what’s the score?”

“47-39 in your favor,” Whizzer glares, “But it’s your fault, you cheat.”

Marvin laughs, etching four lines into the dirt, “I do not!”

Whizzer throws his hands up, “You do! I tell you to put my O on the middle square and you always put it somewhere else! What’s wrong with you?! Just go first if you want the middle, don’t take it away from me!”

“You done?” Marvin asks, laughing all the while.

“Fine.”

Marvin holds the stick high, “You go first.”

Whizzer’s mouth sets in a straight line, “No. You.”

“No, I insist.”

“I know what you’re gonna do.”

“Do you?” Marvin sighs, exasperated, “C’mon babe, just go first.”

Whizzer shakes his head, “Fine.” But there’s a knowing frown on his face.

Marvin grins slyly, “Where do you want it?”

“The middle-god damn it, Marvin! I knew it! Wipe that O out and put it in the middle or I swear I will drag you to the afterlife with me!” 

 

* * *

 

“I think I have it.”

Whizzer looks up from their Tic-Tac-Toe ‘board’, a frown on his face, “What?”

Marvin repeats himself, “I think I have it,” he rubs his forehead, sighing, “What you had.”

Whizzer is silent.

Marvin bites his lip, looking away from Whizzer and at the fence in the distance, encircling the cemetery. His voice comes out raspy, “You know,” he gestures at the translucent man, “Whatever the hell did this to you.”

“I,” Whizzer smiles humorlessly, “Sometimes I forget what happened,” he picks at his button up before taking his hands off of it in fear of wrinkles that are very unlikely to appear, “Sometimes I forget I’m dead.” He flattens his palm over a crease that forms on his shirt, swallowing, “I guess seeing you nearly every day adds to that.”

Marvin closes his eyes, “Don’t say that word.”

“What?”

“Dead. Just-please.”

Whizzer furrows his brows, “I died, Marvin. Even if I’m here for however the hell long they want me, I’m still dead. Just in this fucked up Casper form.”

Marvin opens his eyes, looking up at the sky, “Stop, Whizzer.”

“Have you talked to Charlotte?”

Marvin looks at Whizzer, swallowing at the intense look on his face, “Why would I do that?”

The translucent man sits forward, “Because you have what I did. You told her about it, right?”

“I don’t even know for sure if I have it.”

“You’ve lost weight, and I know it’s not from stress. You have had that cough for weeks and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you stumbling when you walk here.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

 

* * *

 

After another night watching TV once Marvin gets back from the cemetery, Trina gives Jason his bag with his laptop and smiles at him as the rest of the guests file out. She looks up at Marvin, “Honey, please give your father and I a moment.” Jason nods and walks into his room in Marvin’s apartment.

Trina’s smile drops, “You’re not looking great.”

Marvin laughs and looks down, “Thanks, dear.”

“You know what I mean.”

Marvin’s jaw clenches as he looks back up at her, “I’m fine, Trina.”

Her eyes turn sad, a look Marvin knows all too well, “You’re not.”

“I know.”

She steps forward, almost reaching for him, “Charlotte has noticed. Please.”

Marvin nods. Even his movements are a lie.

Trina watches him like she knows he won’t see Charlotte, like she knows he’s just gonna take another antibiotic and sleep the entire night away. Like she knows he’s wasting away, and he’s welcoming it.

She steps out of the apartment.

 

* * *

 

They aren’t playing today. The two men, one real, one less than that, sit side by side resting on Whizzer’s grave. There’s a soft breeze today, making some leaves look as if they are floating above the ground during the infrequent gusts of wind.

Marvin looks at Whizzer, turning his head, “Did it hurt?”

Whizzer gives him a quizzical look, eyebrow raising, “What?”

“Dying.” He finds it funny that he can say the word now that he knows that’s what’s happening to him, “Did it hurt?”

There’s a moment of silence as Whizzer stares at him, eyes scrunching slightly in that way Marvin knows he’s thinking. He’s thinking about how he should phrase it.

Marvin laughs quietly, “C’mon, don’t spare me.”

Whizzer grins, “Yeah.” He sighs, “It hurt.”

“You lied to me.” 

The translucent man tilts his head.

Marvin shrugs, “You said it didn’t hurt. When I held you that one night. You said the drugs were enough. When you were dying in front of me. You said you felt fine.”

“Well,” Whizzer’s mouth twitches as he looks forward, “Didn’t I have to spare you then?”

Marvin nods, grimacing. “Yeah,” he exhales, “Yeah, you did.”

The two stare forward, next to each other.

 

* * *

 

“Marvin, look,” Mendel holds up his hands in surrender, “I know this is weird, but hear me out.”

Marvin crosses his legs on his couch, crossing his arms as well, “Oh, do tell.”

Mendel sighs deeply, like he’s going through an intense tribulation, “It’s been years since we’ve had a session. I-along with the rest, feel that we needed to have a talk since you’re,” he gestures aimlessly, “you know.”

“Dying?”

“No!” Mendel’s eyes nearly bug out as he waves his hands slightly at Marvin’s accusation.

“It’s just,” Mendel pauses, “You’re going in next week and I feel like we both need to help you,” His eyes turn soft, “mourn.”

Marvin laughs, “Haven’t I done that enough?”

“Not with yourself.”

* * *

Marvin immediately goes to Whizzer’s grave after Mendel’s joke of a therapy session. He quit his job earlier that day. After all, he’s a dead man, already. He should at least be able to enjoy his last week before he gets stuck to a hospital bed.

Whizzer is already waiting at his grave, as per usual, once Marvin arrives. Marvin moves to sit down but halts at Whizzer’s expression. The man, or ghost, is staring at the ground. He’s biting his lip in that way he did when he got back home from a hook up during his and Marvin’s first attempt at a relationship.

“Hey,” Marvin sits next to Whizzer, “What’s going on?”

“I-” Whizzer blinks a few times, trying to articulate his words, “There’s an opening.”

“Oh.” Marvin looks down too.

“Don’t,” Whizzer’s voice sounds hoarse, “I’m not going.”

Marvin looks at Whizzer quickly and frowns, “You have to.”

Whizzer laughs quietly, “I can’t”

“Whizzer,” Marvin shifts, moving his body toward Whizzer, “You have to go. I’m not gonna be here much longer, and I don’t want you stuck at this goddamn grave while I’m dying in a hospital bed.”

“You’re getting admitted?” Whizzer looks at Marvin, a surprised look on his face.

Marvin swallows, “Next week, yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck, sighing, “Turns out it’s worse than we thought it was. I quit work today.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“So,” Marvin grabs Whizzer’s hand, and again, almost jumps at how familiar the feeling, although not truly real, is, “You have to go. Go see those pearly gates, huh?”

“Don’t fucking mock me.” Whizzer spits, pulling his hand away.

Marvin frowns, “I wasn’t-”

“You-what the fuck, Marvin?” Whizzer stands up, running his hand through his hair, like he’s gonna pull some out, “I told you to go see Charlotte weeks ago, and now this?”

The mood of the visit shifts. From something beautiful and sacred and held together in small moments. To this.

“I don’t know what to say.”

Whizzer laughs, harsher than before, “You could’ve lived so much longer, you know?” He paces now, almost hysteric, “If you had just fucking listened to me. You’d be so much better than I was, and look at you!” He gestures at Marvin, “You look worse than I did on my deathbed.”

Marvin stands up now, “If I listened to you,” His jaw is set, “I’d be in a hospital bed now, I’d have been there for weeks.”

“And?”

“And I wouldn’t be able to see you every day!” Marvin exclaims, throwing his hands in the air. “Jesus, is that what you wanted me to say?” He chokes up a little, throat feeling tight, “How could I go to the hospital to get better when you were here the whole entire time?”

Whizzer steps closer to Marvin, a dangerous look on his face, “I would’ve stayed here, alone, for years if that meant you lived longer, you fucking asshole.”

They stand there, staring each other down, for what seems like minutes. Whizzer, undeniably angry, almost sorry and Marvin, mourning.

 

* * *

 

The next day, Marvin comes back to the graveyard. It’s empty. Just Marvin, Whizzer’s grave, and the evening sky.

 

* * *

 

Marvin thinks he knows just about how Whizzer felt that one day the entire family gathered around him and acted like he was getting better. Marvin thinks he felt pretty empty.

Marvin feels pretty damn empty right now.

Cordelia serves chicken soup to everyone, giving Marvin a sense of deja vu as Charlotte checks his vitals for the twentieth time that day. Jason plays chess with Mendel in the back of the room, after Marvin refused, swearing he was not going to lose his last game of chess. Trina stands next to Marvin’s bed, looking exhausted, crow’s feet more pronounced than they had ever been.

Except this time, no one is fooling themselves.

“How are you feeling?” Trina asks, wringing her hands, looking at Marvin with despaired eyes. This is so much more different than when Whizzer was dying. At least everyone disguised their concern. 

“I’m doing fine.” Marvin says softly, reminded of Whizzer’s admission to him of the pain. Of the need to protect. He never thought he’d take Whizzer’s advice.

Trina nods. Marvin doesn’t know if he prefers Whizzer’s treatment or his.

 

* * *

 

“Does it hurt?” Jason says one night, one of the worse nights.

Marvin thinks of himself, a few weeks back, asking the same thing. He tries to muster up a smile, “No, I feel fine, actually.”

Jason looks at him, looking older than he had when Marvin held him at his bar mitzvah. Marvin feels sorry. God, the kid doesn’t deserve this.

“You’re too smart for your own good.”

Jason nods, knowingly.

“Yeah.” Marvin coughs, covering his mouth with his hand. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry, dad.”

Marvin shakes his head, “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

“I know, but,” Jason doesn’t cry this time, not like he did at Whizzer’s bed while Whizzer was sleeping. His eyes are dry, “I’m sorry.”

 

* * *

 

Everyone has left for the night. They promised to return early in the morning, leaving behind hugs and sweet goodbyes.

Marvin doesn’t think he’ll make it to morning.

He sits up painfully, having woken up minutes before from a coughing fit. His lungs burn. He feels like he’s dying. He might be.

The soft light of the moon shines through the window blinds, casting a small light on the hospital bed. It doesn’t feel real. 

Then, suddenly, the door to his room opens.

Marvin looks up. Whizzer.

But, this time, he’s not translucent. He’s in that green button up Marvin always asked him to wear and those brown pants, god, those brown pants. And he’s full of color.

“What?” Marvin begins to ask, but Whizzer steps forward, crossing his arms and grinning.

“Hey.” His voice sounds real now. Less like a dream.

Marvin can’t believe it, and that thought begins to sound redundant now.

Whizzer steps to Marvin’s bed as Marvin begins to get up, holding his hand out, making Marvin stay seated. He takes Marvin in his arms and holds him tightly, breathing in. Marvin snakes his hands up and cups Whizzer’s face, feeling lighter. His lungs don’t burn anymore. He feels Whizzer’s face, feels the soft skin, his lips, his smile.

Whizzer leans forward and whispers in Marvin’s ear, “I cannot believe you made me wait another month before you decided to kick it.”

Marvin is surprised by a loud laugh coming out of himself, echoing throughout the room. The moonlight pouring into the room glows a little brighter. So does Whizzer’s eyes.

Whizzer moves his arms to Marvin’s chest and captures his lips with his own. Their lips glide together, and the two men are relieved that this time, it feels just like it did when they first met in a seedy bar by Marvin’s workplace. Real. Electric.

Marvin thinks he hears a beeping sound cut off in the back of his mind, but he’s too focused on this moment, the feeling of Whizzer again, to care. They move together, taking in each second of one another’s touch. 

The light of the moon grows brighter and brighter until the room turns to white.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked this story! Please comment what you thought, and I think I will be posting more in this fandom, as well. :) Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you think in the comments, thanks for reading!


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